


Morning chat

by ClemB



Category: Fringe
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 04:07:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClemB/pseuds/ClemB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, those infamous promo stills for episode '6B? Here's my take on the breakfast scene. <br/>Originally posted on ff.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning chat

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot, unbeta-ed, so all the mistakes mine.  
> Disclaimer : no copyright infringement intended.

Sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains, plunging the room into a shadowy morning environment. Its occupant was sound asleep on the bed, its headrest against the side wall, oblivious to the world. His feet were dangling lazily off the side of the bed, his body sprawled on the top of the covers. He was still wearing the clothes he had worn the previous day; a gray long sleeve shirt, dark blue jeans, and white socks. His coat was thrown carelessly at the back of the chair he used at his desk.

Peter gained consciousness slowly, first chasing away the first rays of the morning sun, burrowing his head into the pillow. Hanging onto the last tendrils of the night, he sighed, trying to go back to a peaceful slumber. That was without counting on the other occupant of the house, who had the nasty habit of waking up at the eeriest time of the night. Sighing, he reluctantly left the comfort of his bed, sitting at the edge of the mattress, his head immediately pounding.

Gripping his head with his hands, his took a deep breath before standing up, his head spinning. Spending the previous night at a bar had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now he wasn't so sure. His life had been close to perfect a few months earlier. He had a stable job that he enjoyed, most of the time; he had reconciled with Walter, slowly building trust back with the old man; and he had someone in his life, someone he cared deeply about. She had crossed over universes to ask him to come back to her world, all but declaring her love for him. He had of course followed her, and they had settled into a comfortable relationship. They had slowly discovered each other, and he had been surprised at first to notice more and more differences as the time had passed. Was she changing as they built their story? He had wanted to believe that he was the one who had made her change; that he had made her happy, happier than he had ever seen her. That it was the reason why he hadn't seen her behave like she did before.

How wrong could he have been? He had been fooled, played by his biological father and this woman – who looked and acted so much like the one he had learnt to know over the years. When he discovered the truth, emotions rushed into him, threatening to drown him. Anger, rage against this woman who had stolen and dirtied his heart; hatred, for this father he had met only for a few days over there, and plotted everything. And sorrow. For what he had lost, what they – his Olivia and him – didn't share. For what they might never had.

So he had became driven, looking for answers, no matter the way he found them, no matter the costs. He had grown tired of being passive, waiting for life to throw bones his way. He had needed answers, as to how he was connected to the Machine, why him, why the war with the other universe, and how he could escape the impending doom that had been written as his fate. He had killed warriors to access to what they knew, he had lied to everyone, his friends, his boss, and to Olivia. Walter had discovered the truth quickly, confronting him. He hadn't been able to explain why he was doing it, he just felt he had to, to preserve his sanity. The connection to the Machine might have been a start of an explanation, but his natural inclination to forgo the rules had played a big part, too. Broyles had been incredibly upset, and Astrid had felt disappointment and confusion when the truth about his whereabouts had come to light. As for Olivia, he didn't know what to think. She had been surprised, incomprehension written in her eyes. She had left the lab without saying a word, and hadn't returned his calls since that time, three days earlier.

Sighing, he pushed himself toward the door, intending on taking a long, warm shower before facing the day. Scrubbing at his skin didn't help with the headache, but managed to get him rid of the filthiness lingering from the previous night. Towel drying his hair, he chose a black button shirt and blue jeans for the day. Pulling the outfit out of his closet, he swiftly put them on before heading downstairs.

He found his father head deep into a cupboard, talking to himself. The kitchen was the usual morning mess, bowls filling the sink, pans on the burners, and lots of spilling on the table, as well as on the floor. Peter managed to find a clean cup and poured himself some coffee, savoring the bitter taste on his numb tongue. Observing the kitchen table, he retreated to the other table of the house, in the living room, only to find it dressed for breakfast. Two plates sat on it, cutlery sitting next to them on the set, as well as a napkin. Two glassed of freshly pressed orange juice completed the picture, as well as two jugs of milk. Bits of fruits were on a plate, bacon had been grilled, and blueberry pancakes were filling another plate. Maple syrup was ready to be poured on them, sitting next to them in a pitcher.

"Walter?" Peter called for his father to explain what was going on. He watched as the man placed to candles on the table and lit them, smiling. "There, perfect. Peter, don't touch anything!" He cleaned the table, taking away towels and throwing them onto the kitchen table.

"Walter, would you mind telling me what's going on?" Peter followed him to the kitchen, leaning against the door frame. What was his father up to this time?

"I made breakfast." Walter returned to the living room, tidying it up. Placing a fallen shirt back on the chair of his desk, he dusted here and there, wanting everything to be perfect.

"Yeah, that much I can tell. What's with the candles?" Walter grinned at his clueless son.

"We are expecting someone. She should be here soon." Frowning, Peter laid a hand on the back of a chair, sipping his coffee and looking at his father. Who could they be expecting for a candlelit breakfast? And why were there only two plates?

––––––––––––––––––––

Olivia stood under the shower spray, her hands massaging her scalp, rinsing the suds away. After another short night, she needed to keep the turmoil away, only if for a few minutes. As water trickled down her body, she concentrated on relaxing, pushing all her thoughts away. But this time, she couldn't. Living through another deception, another betrayal was not easy to keep at bay. She had hoped to move past what she and Peter had been through, slowly rebuilding trust, and their friendship. But he had lied to her, to all of them, hiding his whereabouts. He had gone his own way to find a reasonable explanation to the mess they were currently in with the Machine. They all needed answers, but working as a team was what had always kept them going strongly. If each other did their researches secretly, it was never going to work.

Sighing, she turned the water off and grabbed a towel from the nearby holder. She wrapped it around herself and squished some water out of her hair before heading to her bedroom. Picking up the usual bland outfit, she was drying her hair when her phone rang. Quickly turning the blower off, she picked it up and answered, pushing her growing bangs out of her forehead.

"Dunham." Expecting it to be a call for another case, she was surprised to hear Walter.

"Good morning Olivia. I was wondering if you could over to our house this morning?" She and the crazy scientist had talked about Peter's change of behavior several times since the truth had came out. He had asked her to not shut his son down completely, that the Machine was what had changed him. Peter needed her, he had said, to overcome this and find balance again. Not willing to lose Peter anyway, she had promised she would think about it. She was still confused by all of it and needed time to process.

"Sure, what's going on?" Walter remained secretive, asking her to "just come over and I'll explain everything".

"Okay, do you need anything while I'm out?" She offered, knowing the man enjoyed pastries in the morning.

"No, thank you, but that is very kind of you." Grabbing a hair brush, she heard Walter ask her : "Oh, Olivia, you haven't had breakfast yet, have you?"

––––––––––––––––––––

As Peter was finishing his cup of coffee, rinsing it by the sink, the doorbell rang. Walter sprinted to the door, greeting their guest.

"Olivia! Thank you for coming." He led her to the living room, where Peter was waiting by the table.

"Hey." she smiled tentatively at him, eyeing the table.

"I made breakfast for both of you." Walter explained. "You need to talk, and there's no better time than breakfast. You are both refreshed from the night, and eating liberates endorphins, reducing stress and thus you are more inclined to talk things through calmly." He was ecstatic; his plot was going to work perfectly.

Peter watched the scene before his eyes; Olivia was wearing a confused smile, listening to Walter, hands warmly hidden in the pockets of her peacoat. He was mixed-up as to how to feel about his father's stratagem; should he be angry at him, or glad that he had the chance to talk to Olivia for more than thirty seconds at a time? He didn't have time to linger on the though, as Walter finished to babble and retreated upstairs.

"Well, you two enjoy your breakfast. Astro is picking me up in a few minutes, I'll go grab my coat and leave the two of you alone." He dashed upstairs and came back quickly, addressing them one last time. "You two need to sort this out. If not for your peace of mind, then do it for the sake of this universe. You two need each other, whether you'll admit it or not, and this universe needs balance." With that the old man left, whistling, the front door closing with a loud bang.

Her eyes cast on the table in front of her, she didn't dare look at Peter, was was standing awkwardly a few feet away from her, staring at her. She had been played by Walter, and never saw that coming.

"So..." Peter trailed off, clearing his throat. Finally looking up, she shrugged, bitting her lower lip.

"So, this actually looks delicious." She tentatively grabbed a chair, resting her hand on its back. To say the situation was awkward and uncomfortable didn't even begin to cover it.

"Why don't you get comfy while I make us some coffee?" Glad to retreat into the kitchen for a few minutes, Peter tried to clear his mind. Olivia was in his living room. Walter wasn't there. They were going to have a candlelight breakfast. Breathing deeply, he reached for the coffee pot, readying himself for what he knew was coming.

Olivia took her peacoat and scarf off, setting them on the back of the couch. Taking in the surroundings, she noticed the room looked different, cleaner than it usually was. Books were sitting on the shelves, no dust marred the furniture, and the windows didn't wear the opaque screen they normally did. Smiling, she mused at Walter's efforts.

Returning to the table, she saw Peter holding two cups of steaming coffee, observing her. Placing one near her plate, he pulled his chair toward him and waited for Olivia to sit, before taking place onto his chair. Both took a sip of the black liquid, eyeing each other.

The butter knives sitting on the table couldn't have cut through the thick silence blanketing them. Where should they start? They were slowly rebuilding their relationship, one step at a time, when Peter's secrets came crashing onto them, breaking the fragile strings that kept them together. Peter knew he might have ruined whatever had remained between them after FauxLivia's predicament. Olivia hated being lied to, and given her past relationships, he knew she wouldn't make it through another betrayal.

Sighing, he offered her the dish of pancakes, which she gladly took. Placing two of them onto her plate, she handed them back to Peter. Silently, he then handed her the maple syrup, and she placed a few pieces of bacon on his plate. Unconsciously, knowing each other's tastes and habits, they helped the other putting everything they needed on their plate. Eyeing their plate, Peter remarked : "Well, if this isn't a great team work...".

Smiling, Olivia nodded and grabbed her fork and knife, digging into the syrup dripping pancakes in front of her. Peter picked at his food, cutting a pancake with his fork, nibbling on a piece of fruit. Licking his lips, he grabbed the mug standing in front of him, trying to busy his hands.

"Olivia..." he didn't know how to begin, or what to say to make her understand. She looked up, chewing, waiting for him to talk. "I know you need answers, and I'm not sure I can give them to you." Placing her cutlery on each side of the plate, she drank some orange juice before answering.

"Why don't you start at the beginning? Why did you lie to us?" Any ghost of a smile was gone from her face, replaced by a look of anticipation, and apprehension. What would he say to her? Would he tell her he was better off working alone?

"I..." He sighed. He might as well tell her everything; this might be his last chance to try to explain himself, albeit he didn't know how to start. "I guess, I knew you wouldn't approve of it, so -" She snorted, annoyance pouring out of her.

"What, murdering people?" He shook his head, regretting his phrasing.

"No. They're not even human, Olivia."

"They might not seem to be, but that gave you no right to act like you did. Peter, you acted like a criminal!" She almost hit her glass of juice, her hand missing by an inch the breakable object. She was getting upset, Peter knew he had to hurry or she might storm off.

"Look, I know what I did wasn't right. But I don't regret it." She shook her head, clearly not agreeing with him. "I could blame it on the Machine, but you know it's not a hundred percent the reason."

"Then what is it?" Olivia had calmed down, her voice low, almost a whisper. "Why did you do it? Give me a good reason, Peter."

"Because!" He took a deep breathe, trying to stay quiet. "Because I was tired of sitting back and waiting for things to happen. I'm not good at being a spectator of my life, you know that." She knew that, all too well. "I had to know what they knew. I had to see how the Machine works, and what's my link with it."

"So what? You couldn't wait for the FBI to proceed through the information?" She was upset; didn't he trust her anymore?

"I didn't want the FBI to take the intel and do nothing with it. You know the only way to access a shapeshifter's memory is through his spinal disc. The FBI would never have allowed us to take them." She brushed her hair with her hand, fixing her ponytail. She did that when she was confused, Peter mused.

"You could have talked to me, Peter. I though we moved past that." Olivia was sad; sad that Peter wasn't asking for her help anymore; sad that he didn't trust her enough anymore. Had they really lost the complicity they had?

"I'm sorry." He let go of his now empty cup of coffee, longing to reach out and grab her hand. "I really am sorry, Liv. I know it would be asking a lot, but could we move past this?" She looked down at her hands, frowning. "I know I screwed up, but please, I don't want to lose you." She looked up and watched his eyes. She had always been able to read him like an open book, if she looked closely. Peter let her stare at him, gauging him. Had he been religious, he would have send a silent prayer for everything to be alright.

"I don't know, Peter." Letting out the breath he didn't know he was holding, he slouched on his chair slightly, hating himself. He had lost her. And it was all his fault. "We are barely moving past the other Olivia, and now this? I don't know how much more I can take." Nodding, he bit his lower lip, searching for something to add. Nothing came to his mind.

"Would you be honest with me, about one thing?" she asked, putting away her empty plate and glass of juice. He nodded, waiting for her to continue. "When you said you didn't want me to read her diary." He opened his mouth, ready to interrupt her, when she put her hand up, asking him to let her finish. "You had already cracked the file, didn't you?" He acquiesced. "Then why didn't you want me to read it? Were you afraid I'd decipher it too quickly, that you wouldn't have the time to...to finish?" He swallowed hard, absently nibbling on his thumb. "No." He shook his head, finding the right words before speaking them aloud.

"I didn't want you to read through it, because it hurt you more than it did any good. I didn't want you to read through all you've missed. You shouldn't have had to endure it."

"Peter, I already knew what happened. I told you it wouldn't make any difference -"

"But it does. Knowing about something and reading the details about it are two completely different things. I know you are strong, I know you can take whatever is thrown at you, but that doesn't mean I don't want to protect you." Surprised by his honesty, she didn't know how to respond to that. So instead, she reached across the table, placing her hand atop of his, looking at him in the eyes. And they knew, at that moment, that everything would be alright. If they worked together, they would overcome this. Talking was the key to every relationship, Walter had told Olivia. She was seeing it, now.

Smiling at each other, they relished into the simple physical contact. It was a sweet gesture, one that carried emotions they couldn't acknowledge yet. The ringing of a phone woke them from their trance. Olivia reached in her pocket, sliding her hand against Peter's as she picked up the call. They had another case. Astrid and Walter were already on their way, they just had to meet them. Sighing, she informed Peter, who quickly put the food away as Olivia put her scarf and coat on, waiting for the location to show in her email inbox.

Without a word, they walked to the door, Olivia first, Peter following her. As she reached for the handle, she turned around, trapped between the door and him. Opening her mouth to speak, he beat her to it, smiling.

"We'll get through this, right?" He still wasn't sure how she felt about all the mess he had created. He had expected her to kick him out of her life for good, the outlook of his reckless behavior clear in his mind.

Surprising him, she nodded, a soft smile grazing her lips. "No more lies?" she asked, expectantly looking up at him. "No more lies." He brushed her cheek with his left hand, her head leaning into it. Feeling adventurous, he brought his lips to her opposite cheek, relieved when he didn't feel her withdraw. Lingering a few more seconds, he pulled back, his hand sliding to grab hers. She smiled at him, a full glowing smile he had missed seeing on her face since she came back.

Reading each other's expression, they knew they would be okay. They still had a long way to go, but they were slowly rebuilding trust, the most important pillar in a relationship. Walter had told them they needed to reconcile, in order to maintain balance in both universes. They didn't know what that meant yet, but they were ready to face anything, as long as they had each other.


End file.
